


When the Ocean meets the Shore

by jailikechai



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, Fluff, Hawaii, Jo Ships It, M/M, Musician!Cas, Surfing, surfer!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jailikechai/pseuds/jailikechai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a crazy guy with a guitar hanging out on the pier and watching the surfers. Dean is intrigued. Jo says he's obsessed. When it turns out that the guy is maybe not so crazy after all (and has the bluest eyes Dean has ever seen), maybe Dean will admit that Jo was right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Ocean meets the Shore

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I grew up (and currently live) in Hawaii, and no, I have never been surfing before in my life. My sincere apologies to surfers (and guitarists) everywhere for my mistakes.
> 
> I picked Jo as Dean's surfing buddy for no reason other than I can imagine her surfing.
> 
> Added photos on 09/05/2017. Or see the photos on [Tumblr](http://jailikechai.tumblr.com/post/165037157251/realized-i-never-uploaded-the-photos-to-go-with-my).

“Dean, the guy with the guitar is back,” Jo hisses from her spot behind him in the line up. Dean sits up on his board and cranes his neck to see the shore. Yep, there he is, the weird guy with the crazy hair and the guitar and the fucking trenchcoat is there on the pier, dangling his feet off the edge of the weathered wood and absently plucking the strings of his instrument. Who the hell wears a trenchcoat in Hawaii?

“What do you think he’s doing?” Dean wonders. “This is, what, the fourth day in a row?”

“Maybe he’s a crazy homeless person. That would explain the trenchcoat,” Jo muses.

“He doesn’t look homeless to me.” The guy’s hair is a mess, sure, but it looks like the purposeful, styled kind of mess, and yeah, the trenchcoat’s weird, but it’s clean and generally pretty tidy, and the clothing he wears underneath changes daily. Plus, Dean can see even from this distance that that guitar is nice. None of those things scream homeless to him, but there’s always nice, clean homeless people, so he could be wrong. Jo’s probably on par with the crazy thing, though.

“Only one way to find out. Are you gonna go talk to him this time or you gonna puss out again?” Jo smirks.

“I did not-” Dean begins to protest.

“Hey, you gonna catch a wave or what?” an irritated voice calls from behind Jo. Dean leans around to scowl at the irate surfer, who scowls back.

“Calm your tits, bro,” Jo snaps. “You seen a wave you wanted to catch yet?” The man snorts, but says nothing. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

“I got the next one,” Dean says, watching the approaching swell and pressing his belly to his board to start paddling. He never tires of the thrill that surges through his core as the wave catches him him and he slides to his feet, the warm blue ocean crashing around him. He had never been a fan of rollercoasters at amusement parks, but this ride he can’t live without.

He doesn’t wipe out and the wave carries him smoothly towards the shore, further in than he usually likes to end up. He sits up and finds himself quite close to the pier, and crazy guitar guy. He’s never seen the guy this close up and, wow, the glimpses he caught from out by the breakers or when he's passing by to pack up his board did not do this guy justice. He’s slim and fit under the shapeless trenchcoat, a faint shadow of stubble across his strong jaw, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he bends his head to watch his long fingers dance over the strings of his guitar.

“Shit, crazy guy is _hot_ ,” Jo states from behind him. Dean nearly falls off his board. Jo smirks from several yards back, squeezing water from the dripping end of her ponytail. She cocks her head. “Is that… _Sympathy for the Devil_?”

Dean frowns and listens. The sound of the guitar is faint over the crash of waves onto the beach, but yes, that is the distinctive sound of The Rolling Stones floating over the water.

“Well that’s not what I expected,” Dean muses.

The guy looks up and catches sight of them. His smile grows a little and he waves a hand. Dean waves dumbly back.

“Check out those baby blues,” Jo whispers, paddling a little closer. “Ok, you have _got_ to talk to him now.”

Dean scowls, because he noticed the guy’s eyes, too, and he shouldn’t be noticing the eye color of some random crazy dude at the beach. And no one’s eyes should be so bright that they can be seen so clearly from such a distance, and in the fading light of the approaching sunset, too. Dean’s inexplicably offended by the guy’s attractiveness.

“Probably contacts,” Dean grumbles. “Must be one of those hipster wannabes, trying to be quirky and shit, playing crappy guitar on the beach.”

“Geez, what’s got your panties in a twist,” Jo snorts.

“Nothing. He’s creepy, just sitting there, staring at us.” And the guy is totally sitting there staring at them with those intense, ocean blue eyes.

“You’re staring back,” Jo points out, rolling her eyes. Dean quickly drops his gaze to glare back at his companion. Jo smirks. “C’mon, you’ve been obsessed with the guy for weeks, and now you know that he’s got the pretty blue eyes, the hot bod, he plays classic rock on a nice guitar... don’t deny you want to hit that.”

“I do not!” Dean denies a little too quickly.

“You totally do. Shame he’s crazy. I never see you get this worked up about guys, and it would do you good to get laid.”

Dean scowls at her.

“Are you gonna paddle back out to catch another wave, or you done for the day? It’s getting kinda late,” Dean snaps, turning his own board towards the breakers. Jo chuckles.

“Defensive, much?”

Dean ignores her as she follows him back out. The guy still sits on the pier, watching them, and Dean does _not_ stare back as he waits for the last wave of the day.

~~

“Surf’s up on the West side, you wanna drive out later?” Jo asks, kicking Dean’s foot where it’s sticking out from underneath the car he’s working on. Dean narrowly avoids braining himself on the undercarriage, and slides out to glare at Jo.

“Jesus, Jo, you know better than to fucking kick a guy when he’s working,” Dean complains, sitting up and grabbing a rag to wipe sweat off his brow.

“I wouldn’t have to if you had responded one of the first five times I called your name,” Jo shoots back. “West side? Surf?”

“Nah, I’m in the mood for something more chill. Three’s or Four’s?” Dean offers carefully. Jo gives him a sly look.

“This wouldn’t happen to have something to do with a certain blue-eyed guy with a guitar, would it?”

“What? No!”

“It’s ok, Dean. I don’t mind oggling the crazy guy if you want to.”

“I do not want to oggle him.”

“Uh huh.”

“And we don’t know that he’s actually crazy.”

“Nah, normal guys totally sit on a pier and play a classic rock wearing a trench coat.” She leans down to pat him on the shoulder. “You’re lucky I’m an enabler for your sick fantasies.”

Dean knocks her hand away with a scowl.

“You should call your mom and say your goodbyes, ‘cause you’re not gonna live long after I get my hands on you,” he warns. Jo cackles.

“You wish, Winchester. ‘Sides, you really want to brave my mom’s wrath after you off me?” Dean shivers at the thought. “Four’s then, after work?” Jo concedes.

“Call Sam and see if he wants to come with,” Dean nods, laying back to get back to work on the car.

“Yeah, gotta get the little bro to sign off on your new eye candy,” Jo teases.

“Fuck you, Jo,” Dean calls back cheerily, disappearing under the car. Jo chuckles and Dean hears her footsteps echo out of the garage. He absolutely doesn’t think about windswept brown hair and long, slender fingers plucking at guitar strings as he works.

~~

The swell is low and easy and the vibe is laid back on the South shore, just as Dean wanted. Sam actually makes an appearance and Dean and Jo both cheer at the sight of him wearing board shorts and a big grin as he paddles out to meet them. It’s nice to see him out of the office for once - he’s getting pale from lack of sun.

Dean attempts to subtly keep one eye on the dock as they surf, but Jo catches him and smirks. He responds with a scowl and threatens to dunk her. Crazy guitar guy doesn’t make an appearance and Dean tries not to be disappointed.

Sam leaves early, citing an early morning meeting the next day, and Jo not long after, rolling her eyes about her mom insisting on dinner together. Dean stays behind to ride a few more waves before the sun goes down. He’s under the showers on the beach rinsing salt water from his hair when a low voice speaks out of nowhere beside him.

“Excuse me,” the voice rumbles. Dean jumps, stubbing his toe ungracefully on the shower. He looks over and there’s trenchcoat-guitar guy, standing just out of reach of the spray, without his guitar but holding Dean’s car key out to him. “I saw you drop this,” the man explains.

“Shit. Thanks. That would have been bad to lose,” Dean shuts off the water and takes the key from the guy, who smiles his shy little half-smile. His eyes are even bluer up close and they definitely don’t look like contacts. Dean can’t stop himself from smiling back.

“Was the surf good today?” the man asks, tilting his head a little and staring at Dean, like a curious bird.

“It was pretty chill, actually. The big waves are on the West side today, but it’s nice to just enjoy the water sometimes, you know?” Dean shrugs and runs a hand through his wet hair, wondering why he’s talking so much.

“I enjoy watching,” the man admits. “You are all so talented and look like you are having so much fun when you’re out on the water.”

“You should try it sometime,” Dean blurts out. The man ducks his head.

“I can’t swim.”

Dean’s eyebrows lift in surprise. He can’t imagine a life without swimming. When he was young his mom would ruffle his hair and tease that he was actually a mermaid baby come to live on shore with them.

"You can't swim?" He repeats blankly.

"I grew up in the midwest. I had never even seen the ocean before I moved here." The guy sounds whistful. 

“Never too late to learn, if you want to,” Dean shrugs. “At least you can play guitar, that takes talent. I suck at instruments.”

The man laughs, and the low, warm sound shoots through Dean’s core like pleasant lightning.

“It’s a hobby, at least.”

“Where’s your guitar, anyway?” Dean wonders, glancing around for the missing instrument.

“I broke a string last night and haven’t had a chance to replace it, so I left it at home,” the man explains. “My neighbors complain about the noise, that’s why I come out here to practice. But I still like to watch the sunset, even if I can’t play.”

Dean smiles at finally having a perfectly reasonable explanation for the guy sitting on the pier with a guitar. Maybe he’s not crazy after all.

“I always miss the sunset,” Dean confesses. “Usually putting my board away by the time it goes down.”

“Hm. Well, you should try it sometime,” the man offers, another shy smile creasing the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. The two men stare at each other for a long moment, before Dean breaks the uncomfortable silence with a cough. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

“Yes. I suppose you will.” They go back to staring silently. “I’m Castiel, by the way,” the man says, sticking out a hand. Dean takes it grimacing when he realizes his palm is still damp.

“I’m Dean.”

“I’m glad to meet you, Dean.”

“Uh. Yeah, me too.”

The man nods and turns to head towards the pier, presumably to watch the sunset. Dean considers following him, but shakes his head instead and picks up his board to head back to his car. Oh man, he is so fucked.

~~

“You talked to him?” Jo squeals at lunch the next day. “Was he totally weird?”

“No! Well, kinda, yeah, but not crazy weird. Just… weird,” Dean answers.

“And hot, right? Please tell me it wasn’t just the light.”

“Uh. No, he looks ok close up.”

“Just ok?” Jo grins. Dean feels his face heating up.

“Yeah, ok. Ok?”

“Whatever you say, Romeo. Going out again today?”

“Can’t. Bobby wants me to work late, some last minute rush job for a pal of his,” Dean sighs.

“Hey, just call him out for being a cockblock. He won’t want to stand in the way of true love,” Jo teases.

“Yeah, I don’t think Bobby really wants to think about his almost-adopted son going out and chasing dick.”

“So you admit you’re chasing dick!” Jo shouts triumphantly. The few other patrons of the sandwich shop they’re sitting in give them scandalized glances. Dean drops his head down and bangs his forehead into the tabletop in front of him.

“Jo,” he groans.

“You would be into a crazy guy. It’s the guitar, isn’t it, you freak.”

“I told you he’s not crazy.”

“Oh, you’re gonna fall for this guy so hard it’s not even funny.” Jo’s eyes shine and she grins wickedly. “Ten bucks says by tomorrow you’re back to mooning around Waikiki trying to figure out how to ask him out.”

Dean glares at her.

~~

It’s a good thing he doesn’t make that bet, because Dean’s totally mooning around Waikiki trying to figure out how to ask Castiel out without being weird about it. And it hasn’t even been 24 hours. He dodges around a pair of slim Japanese girls chattering away excitedly and pointing between a map in their hands and the street signs. It’s late, but Dean hasn’t been out of the garage since lunch and he needs some fresh air, late nights and tourists be damned.

Is Cas even into guys? He’s been watching surfers for weeks on end now, but there’s plenty of hot girls in skimpy bikinis right alongside the half-naked men. Dean just thought they had a kind of - connection. Oh god, Jo was right, he really is a freak.

“Dean!” a gruff voice calls from behind him. Dean nearly trips over his own feet. He turns around and there’s Castiel, trenchcoat, guitar, sharp jaw, blue eyes and everything. The man blinks at him. “I almost didn’t recognize you with - ah - without your surfboard,” Castiel says, his gaze lingering almost longingly at Dean’s chest, covered by his uniform shirt from Bobby’s garage. Dean almost grins. So, guess he doesn’t have to worry about the whole into guys thing.

“Hey, Cas,” he greets, “What’re you doing out here?”

“I’m on my way home from watching the sunset.”

Of course he is.

“Live around here, then?” Dean asks politely.

“Yes, just on Seaside.”

“Tourists don’t drive you crazy?” Dean always wonders about the people brave enough to live in Waikiki.

“It’s - lively,” Cas shrugs. “I like to watch the tourists appreciating the island for the first time, they have such joy. It reminds me of when I arrived here. What brings you down here? I didn’t see you at the beach.”

“Nah, had to work late. Just wanted to get out and gets some air before heading home.”

Castiel nods in understanding. There’s a brief awkward pause while they gaze at each other.

“So, you fixed your guitar,” Dean observes, gesturing towards the instrument. Castiel smiles.

“Yes.”

“You know, I’ve never really heard you play,” Dean says, almost to himself. Cas tilts his head.

“You would like to?” He seems a little stunned by the possibility. Dean crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs helplessly.

“I guess? I mean, you sit out there every day and play, usually can’t hear you over the waves. Jo recognized you playing the Stones the other day, though.”

Castiel’s face turns pink. “Yes. I have rather - eclectic - taste in music. Jo is your girlfriend? The blonde girl?”

“Friend who’s a girl, sure. More like my little sister than anything, her mom’s a family friend. I taught her how to surf when we were kids.” Dean smiles at the memory of tiny Jo scowling fiercely at him over her capsized surfboard while he laughed and teased her until Sam started a splash war that broke their incessant arguing.

“She is very good,” Castiel nods.

“Yeah, she’s even thinking about going pro,” Dean says proudly. “So when’re we gonna get you on a board?”

“Ah,” Cas hedges. “I’m not sure…”

“C’mon, I’ll even teach you how to swim,” Dean pleads. “I taught Jo and Sammy, that’s my little brother. You spend all that time watching, don’t you want to get off that pier and into the waves?”

“You don’t have to do that, Dean,” Castiel protests, but doesn’t deny his desire to try his hand at the sport.

“Tell you what, you play your guitar for me, I’ll teach you how to swim. It’ll be a fair trade,” Dean offers.

“Um,” Castiel hesitates.

“Just say yes, Cas.”

“O - Ok,” Castiel finally consents.

“Great! Dunno if I can do tomorrow, Jo made me promise to drive her out to Makaha, but over the weekend?”

“That sounds good.”

Dean grins, and Cas gives him one of those small smiles that are warm as sunshine. They exchange numbers. As they part ways for the night, Dean can't quite wrap his head around how easy that was.

~~

Castiel was not kidding when he said he can’t swim. They find a quiet spot on a sheltered beach that’s thankfully not too crowded, away from any waves other than gentle lapping at the shore. Cas is already there when Dean arrives, wearing board shorts and a ratty tshirt, sitting in the sand and staring out over the water. When Dean drops onto the sand beside him, Cas offers him an anxious smile.

“You’re gonna be fine, Cas,” Dean reassures him, walking into waist-deep water before glancing back to encourage Castiel to follow him. Any words Dean had prepared flew out of his mind when he catches sight of Cas stripping off his shirt and revealing a chest far too smooth and slim and toned and tan to be covered up and hidden behind a shapeless tan coat all the time. Dean feels a surge of rage towards Cas’ clothing for hiding this body from him all this time.

“Oh. It’s warm,” Castiel states, sticking his toes into the ocean as it slides gently up the sandy shore.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees with a laugh. “It’s a tropical island, man.”

Castiel huffs and gives him a squinty glare as he carefully wades into the deeper water. Dean stifles a chuckle when he sees Cas’ jaw clench as the water hits his crotch.

“I’m in the water,” Cas wonders, looking down at the clear blue ocean around his waist as he stands next to Dean. Dean grins.

“You sure are. Ready to swim?”

They start with floating, the same way Dean taught Jo and Sam when they were small. Castiel squints uncertainly at him before laying back on top of the water as instructed. He promptly sinks. Cas resurfaces, sputtering and blinking salt water out of his eyes, his dark hair dripping.

“Wow.” Dean’s eyebrows lift. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do that before.”

Castiel scowls. “I told you I can’t swim,” he grumbles.

“You can swim,” Dean insists. “Everyone can swim. You just gotta trust the water.”

“Trust the substance that could potentially kill me?”

The two men lock eyes, stubbornly staring each other down. Cas gives in first, his shoulders slumping in defeat as Dean coaxes him to try again. After about half an hour they manage to get Cas to stay above water for approximately fifteen seconds before sinking.

“Progress!” Dean proclaims. “You’re doing great, Cas. You’ll get a feel for it in no time.”

“I believe we might have different interpretations of the concept of ‘in no time’,” Cas snorts doubtfully, air-quotes included.

“Heh. Trust me,” Dean assures him, “you’ll be rollercoaster riding before you know it.”

Castiel tilts his head a little, blinking blankly. Dean rolls his eyes.

“Surfing, Cas. It’s slang for surfing.”

“Oh.” His blue eyes narrow in consideration. “Yes, I suppose I can see how that term would apply.”

Dean laughs at the solemn proclamation. Cas seems almost startled by the sound before a smile slowly crawls across his face. Dean claps him on the shoulder companionably and they follow the soft waves that tug them towards the shore.

~~

“Quid pro quo,” Cas insists, a wicked gleam in his eye as he wraps Dean’s hand around the strings of the guitar and shows him where to place his fingers on the strings.

“The deal was you would play for me,” Dean groans, squinting down at the instrument in his hands.

“You are teaching me, so it’s only fair that I teach you something as well.” Castiel reaches for a second guitar, leaning up against the arm of the dilapidated sofa in Cas’ little studio apartment. After leaving the beach just before it got dark, Cas insisted on taking Dean home to hold up his end of their bargain.

Castiel’s little mid-rise apartment building looked like it was built sometime in the 1950’s and hadn’t been renovated since. Cas lived on the top floor in a little one-room studio where you could sort of see the Ala Wai canal over the roof of the building next door. It was sparsely furnished with clashing furniture that looked like it was picked up from someone’s garage sale, but the space was neat and uncluttered. Like Castiel himself, the room was an odd mixture of precision and chaos that was surprisingly endearing. Dean was charmed until Cas pushed him into a chair and thrust a guitar into his hands.

“Like this,” Cas instructs, strumming his fingers over the strings of his guitar and then looking up at Dean pointedly.

“I thought your neighbors don’t like you to play,” Dean grumbles, attempting to copy Cas’ actions and producing a decidedly unmusical burst of sound.

“They are away from home. They asked me to feed their cat while they were gone.” Castiel demonstrates the chord again, and Dean unsuccessfully mimics him.

“They complain about you, then want you to do them favors?” Dean grimaces as his guitar makes a noise that’s not the one it’s supposed to be making. “I suck at this, dude.”

“I like cats,” Castiel shrugs, absently moving his fingers over the strings of his own guitar and producing lovely notes that sound nothing like Dean’s mangled attempts. A sly smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Don’t worry, Dean, you’ll get a feel for it in no time.”

“Fuck you,” Dean huffs, rolling his eyes. Castiel chuckles and the sound ripples through Dean like a warm ocean wave. Cas’ slim, strong fingers begin to move with more purpose, the quietly strummed chords changing into a sleepy Hawaiian-sounding melody. Dean lets his guitar fall on his lap, watching the soft expression on Castiel’s face as he plays.

“You’re really good,” Dean marvels. Castiel’s cheeks turn pink and he shrugs, but doesn’t stop playing.

“Thank you,” he smiles. “I practice frequently.” The Hawaiian music slowly morphs into the more familiar chords of _Stairway to Heaven_. Dean laughs.

“Is there anything you can’t play?”

“I am not very good at picking,” Cas confesses, “and I originally came to the islands to learn slack-key guitar, but it is very challenging. I’m not quite proficient yet.”

“Bet you are,” Dean muses. He sets the guitar Castiel handed him to the side and leans back into the couch to watch the man play. “So you moved all the way out here just to learn a certain style of guitar. You’re a musician?”

“No, music is just a hobby. After my father died I wanted to get as far away from the rest of my family as I could, so I used the money he left me in his will to come here. I chose Hawaii both because of it’s beautiful music, and the fact that it puts an ocean between me and my brothers.”

“Brothers, huh? I dunno if I could stand having an ocean between me and Sam. If he ever decided to move to the mainland I’d probably just follow him around like a sick dog or something. Kind of pathetic, really,” Dean says, listening as the music shifts again into something that sounds like Taylor Swift, not that Dean would ever admit to recognizing a Taylor Swift song.

“I think it’s wonderful that you have such a close relationship to your brother,” Cas tells him. “I envy you. Did you grow up on the island?”

“Yeah, mostly. My dad was a Marine. He got stationed out here when we were kids, and we just kinda never left. I don’t even really remember living anywhere else.”

Castiel hums thoughtfully, and they lapse into a comfortable lull in conversation, listening to the lovely music pouring from the instrument in Cas’ hands. After a while, Cas sets the guitar aside, and they just sit and talk for hours. Dean learns that Cas works at the convenience store in one of the hotels down the street, using the multiple languages he speaks fluently to sell overpriced trinkets to tourists. Castiel learns that Dean drives a ‘67 Chevy Impala and considers the car the love of his life. Dean makes it explicitly clear that this is a joke and also that he is single. They agree to meet up again in a few days.

Castiel walks him to the door of the tiny apartment and they say their goodbyes, both men shuffling their feet and casting nervous glances at each other and the floor. It's Cas who leans forward and plants a kiss firmly on Dean's cheek before rushing back inside and closing the door behind him. Dean sways on his feet, eyes wide as he looks at the closed door in front of him, fingertips lifting to brush the warm spot on his cheek.

~~

It takes Castiel three weeks to be able to float with enough confidence to try adding any movement to his aquatic activities. His arms and legs don't seem to want to coordinate with each other, or cooperate with the water, but Dean just laughs and patiently encourages him. More often than not Cas gives up rather quickly and clings to the side of Dean's surfboard while they just float around in the water and talk.

After three weeks, Dean is able to play three chords on the guitar and actually manage to make them sound slightly musical. Castiel plays a variety of songs and instructs Dean when to play one of the three chords he knows so they can harmonize together. It never fails to make Cas smile, and Castiel's smile never fails to make Dean grin.

They grow more comfortable with each other, every time standing just a half an inch closer, letting their hands linger half a second longer when they touch. Every time Castiel's eyes gaze into his, Dean feels like he's sinking into the warm blue waters of his beloved ocean and he never wants to climb out again.

Cas kisses his cheek, like he always does when they say goodbye, his hand squeezing onto Dean's shoulder a little bit tighter, his lips pressing onto Dean's skin a little bit harder. Dean feels the puff of his breath on his cheek as they pause before moving apart. Cas smiles at him and disappears into his apartment without another word. Dean practically floats back down to his car.

Dean's phone rings as he's fumbling with his car keys.

"Fuck," he curses as he drops the keys while trying to juggle his phone. "What?" he snaps harshly into the offending device.

"Nice to hear from you, too," Jo's voice drawls from the other end of the line. "What's got you in a funk at -" she pauses, probably checking for a clock, "ten o'clock at night?"

"Nothing, I'm just on my way home from Cas' place," Dean says, finally managing to wrangle the key into the car and slide behind the wheel. There's a heavy silence over the phone. "Jo?"

"Crazy guitar guy?" Jo gasps gleefully.

"Uh." Shit. Dean forgot that he hasn't exactly come clean about his rapidly blossoming - friendship? Romance?

"You're hanging out with crazy guitar guy? At _his place_? At _ten o'clock at night_?" Jo sounds like she might hyperventilate.

"He's not crazy," Dean says, brain blanking on anything else to say.

"Oh my god! You finally hit that! Fuck yes, I'm gonna hang up now so I can call Sam. He owes me twenty bucks," Jo babbles.

"Don't you dare, Joanna Harvelle," Dean hisses. Jo lets out a maniacal giggle. "I haven't 'hit that'-" fuck, Dean's even doing the air quotes. Cas is rubbing off on him. "I'm teaching him how to surf."

"In the middle of the night? I thought you said he couldn't swim."

"He can't swim. That's part of the teaching him. And, uh. He's teaching me how to play guitar," Dean admits. Jo squeals. Dean winces and holds the phone away from his ear.

"Ok, when I get back you're bringing him out surfing with us," Jo says when she finally recovers her breath.

"Dude, no. He can barely keep his head above water, and like hell I'm going to let him within ten feet of your scrawny, screaming ass. You'll probably deafen him and he won't be able to play anymore."

"You can't teach him how to surf and then never let him surf," Jo reasons. "We'll go somewhere easy, and it'll be perfectly safe with all of us there. Sam's even got his lifeguard certification."

"Wait, now Sam's in on this, too?"

"He will be as soon as you hang up so I can call him."

"Gossips," Dean mutters.

"You know it," Jo says, and Dean can hear her grin over the phone. "Anyways, you still picking me and mom up from the airport tomorrow?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean grumbles. "How'd the competition go?"

"Second place, baby," Jo announces proudly. "I'm a surfing superstar."

"When you get famous make sure you remember who taught you everything you know," Dean tells her, pride swelling in his heart.

"Ha. You wish, Winchester."

"See you tomorrow, Jo."

When they hang up, Dean drops his forehead onto the steering wheel and wonders how he's going to ease Cas into the idea of meeting his family and attempting to surf at the same time.

~~

Sam loves Cas. It's almost creepy how fast Dean's big little brother latches on to the awkward, dorky little guy. Jo just keeps smirking lewdly at Dean while Sam and Castiel chat about subjects that Dean's not even sure he's ever heard of.

They're on the main stretch of Waikiki beach, right where all the surf schools teach tourists, so Dean's confident it's pretty safe, even though it's crowded. And Sam's engaging presence seems to have distracted Cas from his usual despair over his lack of swimming skills.

Jo manages to coax Cas into riding a wave, and even though he doesn't get to his feet, the sheer delight on his face when he smiles at Dean from under his dripping wet hair makes Dean's heart stutter in his chest.

"Who's the creepy voyeur, now?" Jo whispers into Dean's ear, making him jump and almost dunk himself under the water. He glares at her.

"I wasn't staring," Dean lies. Jo rolls her eyes.

"I don't blame you. Who would've thought all that was hiding under that awful coat?" Jo eyes Castiel's bare chest as he sits up on his surfboard and Dean scowls at her. His scowl disappears as soon as Cas' eyes light on him. Jo flicks water into his face. "Not staring, my ass."

They don't stay out on the water too long, Castiel's skills not really up to spending an extended amount of time away from shore. Sam shakes Cas' hand and tells him how great it was to meet him, and Jo packs up the boards, giving Dean a meaningful look as she leaves the two of them alone on the beach.

"So, uh, that was my family," Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck and studying the drifts of sand around his feet.

"They are wonderful," Castiel assures him. "I would reciprocate, but spending any amount of time with my family would not be nearly so pleasant."

Dean chuckles, his ribs squeezing tight around his heart as he thinks about the implications of the whole 'meeting the family' deal. They're not even in a relationship yet, Dean doesn't think. They haven't even kissed properly.

"Thank you," Castiel says, taking Dean's hand and knocking Dean out of the thoughts swirling around his head. Cas squeezes his palm gently. "I spent so much time watching, and wishing, but I never thought I would have the courage to actually be out there on the waves. With you. Thank you, Dean."

"Yeah. You're welcome. I'm really glad you're not just sitting there watching anymore." Dean smiles, tumbling into pools of endless blue as he gazes into Cas' bright eyes. Castiel tugs at his hand.

"Come," he orders, and Dean follows as he leads them away from the crowded beach. They stop at Castiel's apartment, where he picks up his guitar and pulls on his trenchcoat, then they continue to walk. Down the street, to the ocean, out onto the pier. Castiel tugs at him and Dean takes a seat next to him at the end of the pier, their feet dangling out over the water, a wave occasionally rising high enough to brush against their soles.

"You showed me what it's like to be out there on the water," Cas says, maneuvering his guitar into position and strumming a few notes. "Now let me show you why I sit here and watch."

Dean looks out over the clear blue water, broken by the whitecaps in the distance, stretching on endlessly to the horizon. He can see the surfers riding the waves in the fading light of day, and it's beautiful. Dean can't remember the last time he just sat and watched. Castiel  begins to play, and Dean doesn't recognize the song, but it sounds happy, and hopeful. The orange globe of the sun sinks slowly towards the sea, lighting up the water in shades of gold.

A sharp wind picks up, and Dean shivers as the cool air brushes over his bare arms. Cas chuckles.

"Maybe you won't make so much fun of the coat now," he teases.

"I never," Dean protests, but Cas just shakes his head and smiles. The breeze tugs at Dean's thin t-shirt and his still wet hair and he shifts a little closer towards Castiel's warmth.

The soothing notes of the guitar seem to make the sun glow brighter, and Dean gasps as the light seems to race across the distant horizon before disappearing with a flash, leaving nothing but a golden afterglow and a deep blue sky fading to navy in its wake. The water is dark, and the waves crashing against the shore and lapping up against the wooden supports of the pier create a harmony with the music of Castiel's guitar. The guitar's chords slowly fade until only the music of the wind and the ocean are left.

Dean turns to look at Cas. The sun may have just set, but it rises all over again in the smile that lights up Castiel's face when his eyes meet Dean's. And Cas pulls Dean in just as surely as the sun pulls the Earth. Their lips slide together as easily as the ocean slides onto the sand. The kiss ends far too soon, but Dean is certain that even forever wouldn't feel like long enough. The only thing to do is kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> So I got to the point in the long fic I'm working on where the boys are starting to get naked, and I got a bit flustered writing sexytimes at work, so I wrote some schmoop instead. I was inspired when I was at dinner and saw some random guy hanging out with a guitar on a pier. I thought maybe he was serenading some surfers.
> 
> I took the photos myself while wandering around Honolulu. That pier is in Waikiki, near the threes/fours surf breaks. That is a real apartment building on Seaside Ave. The sunset is actually Ala Moana beach park, not Waikiki (but they're close). The lone surfer photo is also at Ala Moana. Yes, I did hang around the showers at the beach like a creeper and take stalker-ish photos of surfer boys showering. 
> 
> If you can't see the in-line photos, check them out on my [Tumblr](http://jailikechai.tumblr.com/post/165037157251/realized-i-never-uploaded-the-photos-to-go-with-my).


End file.
